


The Perks of Being the Viscount

by Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold (manka)



Series: How to Win a Losing Hand: One-Shots from the Love Story of Varric Tethras and Maria Cadash (Canon Dragon Age Setting) [19]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Smart Kid, Varric is a good dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23884750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manka/pseuds/Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold
Summary: Being the Viscount of Kirkwall usually means boring meetings. But sometimes, Varric's precocious daughter manages to make it interesting.
Relationships: Female Cadash/Varric Tethras, Female Inquisitor/Varric Tethras
Series: How to Win a Losing Hand: One-Shots from the Love Story of Varric Tethras and Maria Cadash (Canon Dragon Age Setting) [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896694
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23





	The Perks of Being the Viscount

**Author's Note:**

> Pure family fluff set Post-Trespasser featuring my Inquisitor Cadash, Varric, and their rather stubborn and spoiled daughter. Enjoy!

Being Viscount had remarkably few perks. 

In fact, Varric thought, the perks were usually nearly as bad as the job duties itself. He wasn’t particularly interested in the choice society invitations, didn’t care for the gaudy gifts or sizable bribes that kept showing up, and if he had to accept one more honor at one more boring ceremony, he’d fall asleep into his overcooked chicken dinner. 

But moments like this, when he had a room full of shocked, pompous assholes who could do nothing but stare, agog, nearly made it all worth it. 

As usual, his daughter had started the whole debacle. 

Marguerite Cadash-Tethras sat beside him, book discarded. She told him she was reading one of Brother Genitivi’s histories for her tutors, but now that she’d abandoned the tome to satisfy her own curiosity, he could see she had a copy of the latest popular ballad shoved between the pages. She could be bored with Genetivi and her lessons, but Varric thought it was more likely she’d finished the damn thing a week ago and her tutor had been too daft to notice. 

Clearly, she needed something more challenging. And maybe a tiny lecture about not fleecing her tutors on the regular. 

But, first, he was going to sit back and enjoy the show. He let his eyes flick from his daughter’s profile to the redhead beside her who was suddenly very engrossed in her tea, cheerfully stirring it with far too much vigor. Varric couldn’t miss the mischievous glimmer in Maria’s eyes after all these years, though, and it only meant one thing.

They were both on the same page. This meeting was going to get a hell of a lot more interesting, and they were definitely both just going to let it happen. 

Their daughter stared down the merchant princes from Antiva on the other end of the table like she’d been doing it all of her twelve years on Thedas. And, really, that wasn’t too far off the mark. When Maria was gone, which was far too often for his taste, Mags hated to be separated from Varric. To be honest, he rested a bit easier with his daughter only an arm’s length away too. It became just one more of the Viscount’s eccentricities, that the daughter sat in on so many of his meetings, accompanied him on his duties, and was generally allowed to ask as many impertinent questions as she wished.

Clearly, nobody had warned the Antivans. 

“I’m sorry, milord?” One of the men turned his attention from Mags’s piercing gray eyes to Varric, clearly confused about who had asked the question. Varric fought back his chuckle. Barely.

“Sunshine.” He inclined his head towards Mags, indulgent and amused. “I don’t think the gentleman heard your question. Go ahead and ask again.” 

“If he doesn’t answer you this time, Magpie, we can write it down. Or do a dramatic reenactment. Maybe that’ll do the trick.” Maria whispered theatrically, the words carrying across the table. The ears on several of the merchants began to turn interesting shades of red. 

This, Varric thought fondly, was the only real perk of this job. Bringing one and a half unmanageable women to boring meetings just to see what trouble they stirred up. 

“I asked,” Mags raised her voice, young face quite serious and earnest. “Why are they so cheap?” 

The object of her question, a long broadsword, lay in front of one of the merchant princes. He pulled a practiced, false smile onto his face. One that managed to be just the right amount of patronizing. His daughter pulled her shoulders back immediately, seriousness becoming irritation. “Why, milady, what a clever question. I’d heard you had your father’s mind and your mother’s beauty. How pleased I am to find it so.” 

“But you’re not answering it.” She stated stubbornly, flicking her eyes uncertainly to Varric. He nodded, reassuring, and waved at her to continue. She did. “Why are they so cheap?” 

“We have recently been able to refine our smelting process, milady.” The man droned, eloquent and practiced. “With less waste, we…” 

“But Orzammar has the best smiths, and their blades cost twice as much.” Mags argued, her own color rising, looking helplessly to her mother. “How much is iron ore? Aveline said it was more expensive ‘cause of a flood.” 

“40 silvers per pound right now, love.” Maria answered deftly, lips twitching at the corners as she struggled to hide her own smile. 

“How much do you swords weigh?” Mags asked the merchant. 

The man sputtered, helpless. “Milady, I’m uncertain…” 

Mags sighed, impatient, twisting in her chair to pierce one of the guards at the door with her bright gaze. “Kallen? How much does your sword weigh?” 

Kallen tipped his head to the side, considering. “About three pounds, miss. Give or take.” 

“Thank you.” Mags said quickly, twisting back in her seat. “If a broadsword weighs three pounds, that sword costs over a sovereign alone in materials, assuming your smelting produces  _ no _ waste. You’re only charging two sovereigns per piece. Why?” 

“As a special offer to the Viscount and his lady…” The merchant began nervously, pointing his eyes back at Varric in a silent plea to end the interrogation. 

“Oh, leave me out of this mess.” Maria muttered into her tea. “I don’t want your bleedin’ swords. The ones Aveline has are fine.” 

“Well, Sunshine.” Varric jumped in, resting his arm on the back of Mags’s chair. “I think you’ve pointed out a bit of a problem.” 

“Milord, you cannot seriously be considering allowing a child to…” The man stepped forward, face growing thunderous with anger. Maria shifted in her own chair, always alert for danger, gently setting her cup down on the saucer and sending a cold, commanding gaze across the room. 

“I think, perhaps.” Maria said pointedly. “You’ve overstayed your welcome.” 

“I couldn’t agree more, Princess. But it’s your call, Sunshine.” He winked down at his daughter’s pinkening face, her temper coloring her skin the same way Maria’s always did. “You wanna make him squirm a bit more?” 

“No.” Mags said petulantly, picking her book back up and curling into her chair. “He can go.” 

“You heard the lady.” Varric jerked his thumb over his chair. “I trust you can find the exit.” 

The merchant and his entourage stalked out of the room, complaining in Antivan the whole time. Maria caught some of it, most likely the curse words, because she laughed softly as the door slammed shut behind them. 

“Nicely done, Magpie.” Maria praised, winding one of their daughter’s curls around her finger. 

“What do you think the issue is with the swords?” Varric asked, curious. Mags scowled into her book moodily, wrenching away from Maria’s clever hand. 

“They’re not iron or they’re not payin’ anyone to forge them.” She grumbled. “Which you two knew before we even got in here, didn’t you?” 

“Guilty.” Varric admitted. “But we needed to give Aveline time to raid the warehouse.” 

“Why couldn’t I go with Aveline to raid the warehouse?” Mags asked, frowning. Maria and Varric shared a tender, amused look over her head. 

“Well.” Maria began, half-laughing. “You are only twelve and we’re trying to get you to eighteen with minimal bloodshed.” 

“And…” Varric quickly reached into the book, pulling the loose papers of the story from within and shaking them pointedly. “Someone has some apologizing to do to  _ at least _ one tutor.” 

Mags’s sullen expression quickly lightened into something contrite. “I can explain.”

“Make it a good one, Sunshine.” Varric said, settling into his chair. “And I may let you off easy.” 

**Author's Note:**

> More about these threee at: [cartadwarfwithaheartofgold.tumblr.com](https://cartadwarfwithaheartofgold.tumblr.com/) I take requests!


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